


Dreams We Share

by RegalMisfortune



Series: Gods of Our Time [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Genji the White Tiger is a Deity, I mean it's mentioned - Freeform, Lunar Skins!, Minor Character Death, Shapeshifting, We All Know Who It Is, Well genji is a big tiger in this the entire time but, but also sheds the fuck everywhere, character practice because i need to stop writing just zarya stuff lol, i guess??, i lied genji is a big white tiger in this most of the time, this series is a disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalMisfortune/pseuds/RegalMisfortune
Summary: To see a white tiger was an omen- for good or for ill.Zenyatta spots a white tiger, and then it keeps coming back.





	Dreams We Share

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I know I posted a fic before this one as well, but I kind of wrote both of them today and decided to post both of them today as well, because otherwise I'd forget. 
> 
> This series is to practice writing other Overwatch characters outside my usual comfort zone. If you like this series and would like to see more interactions with certain characters, please feel free to suggest scenarios and characters to me on my [tumblr](http://regalmisfortune.tumblr.com/) or in the comments of this fic!

The first time Zenyatta saw the tiger, it was late in the evening, the setting sun tinging the skies a dark purple as its last rays peeked over the snowcapped mountains.

He had been assisting one of the human residents of the Shambali temple carrying baskets full of produce, the steps and walkways glistening with a fresh layer of snow, a rarer occurrence now that spring was settling in. A glint of blue from a shadowed archway of one of the many small homes that was part of the temple complex caught his attention first, naturally turning towards it in suspect that it was a piece of glass from one of the many hanging sculptures a resident had made and had simply fallen off its thread.

What the omnic saw instead made him pause mid-step, optics falling to stare into the glowing, unnaturally blue eyes of a white tiger.

Both froze in the middle of what they were doing, the tiger’s tail stopping partway through a swish and Zenyatta in his walk, surprise of being spotted and finding the tiger in the first place.

Tigers, from Zenyatta’s understanding, remained in the forests below the mountains, not high up past the timberline. And those tigers were the traditional orange with black striping, but this one was almost pure white, the very faint outline of stripes nearly undetectable in the shadows.

“Master Zenyatta?”

The call caused Zenyatta’s attention to flicker, a brief second of a glance towards the source before going back to the shadows. But in that moment, the tiger had disappeared, not even leaving tracks in the freshly fallen snow.

“My apologies,” he said slowly, adjusting the basket as he gave the archway one last look before turning away to continue in his task.

Later that night, while standing beside Mondatta as they watched the moon rise over the world in a moment of peace before the leader of the Shambali left for England the following morning, Zenyatta asked his brother about the tiger.

“A white tiger?” the elder omnic hummed lowly, clasping his hands behind his back as his face remained upturned towards the moon. “Perhaps it was an avatar of _Bái Hǔ-_ the White Tiger Himself.”

Zenyatta tilted his head slowly, letting his brother’s words sink in. He knew of the other deities that had their hand in the world, but many kept themselves from infringing on another’s territory so openly. The Iris may be a newer, but budding deity, and the temple up in the mountains a repurposed home of an ancient temple long since abandoned, but there were no statues or altars left in the place to say of any purpose as to what the temple may have been before the Shambali settled in.

There hadn’t been any obvious workings of other deities nearby, and if there had been they were very subtle. The monks lived in relative peace and isolation in understanding of the Iris, but a visit from any familiar of the White Tiger was… unsettling. To see a white tiger was an omen of ill or a blessing, and yet Zenyatta wasn’t sure which one it was.

“I am uneasy of what this could mean,” Zenyatta admitted lowly, the mala around his neck rotating quietly before settling back down over his shoulders.

“Perhaps it was simply passing through,” Mondatta replied. “The Iris embraces us. _Bái Hǔ_ has no want of us here.”

“Perhaps you are right.” But deep in his core, Zenyatta feared that the sighting was far more of an omen than Mondatta claimed.

Four days later the dreadful news of Mondatta’s death reached the temple, and he knew then that _Bái Hǔ_ had been a warning.

Zenyatta was not as strong as a leader as his brother was. He knew it, but everyone else claimed otherwise. He was simply not the powerful speaker that could sway the masses, a peaceful, gentle omnic set firm in the Iris. Zenyatta preferred handling their teachings individually, that passiveness was not peace and that action had to be taken from time to time for the striving of peace.

But Zenyatta had to be strong for all the monks in the temple, to walk in the shadow of his brother for their sake as well as his own. Mourning settled upon them all, but Mondatta was with the Iris now, at peace. His death had been merciful and swift, a single bullet from a sniper of unknown origins, and while it struck fear and unspoken messages into the masses, Zenyatta could not help but thank softly to whatever deity who happened to listen that they granted Mondatta a death with no suffering and that his soul was now at peace.

Even if Discord churned quietly inside his own chest cavity.

It was many weeks later before Zenyatta saw the tiger for a second time, legs folded underneath him as he rested on the rise overlooking the mountainside. The midday sun shone overhead, warming his metal plating as his fingers remained loose on his knees, head tilted down in meditation as he sought for peace.

He felt it, rather than see it, eyes settled on his back from the shadows.

“You need not to hide,” Zenyatta broke the silence, turning his hands to rest the palms on his knees. There was a pause before the near silent patter of paws approached, sitting down on its haunches beside the omnic with a respectable distance between them.

In the light of the sun, the tiger was magnificent, its coat near white with soft off-white stripes, eyes piercing and glowing in its sockets. Its maw opened to let out a huff, a bit of steam escaping off its incredibly blue tongue. Unnatural, and yet, Zenyatta was not afraid of the silent predator.

They sat in silence for some time, the tiger’s tail curled over its paws and watching the few birds that dared to sneak up this far bouncing along the carved railing, chirping to themselves.

“You came to warn us,” Zenyatta broke the silence between himself and the tiger, the creature’s ears turning towards him before its head did, solid colored eyes staring at the omnic. Zenyatta watched the animal for a moment before lifting a hand, resting it gently on the being’s shoulder, its fur surprisingly warm. “Thank you.”

The creature just stared at him a bit more before it made a chuffing sound, shifting under Zenyatta’s hand as it tucked its head under and bumped it against the omnic’s side as it rubbed itself along his back, nearly knocking the omnic over and shedding fine white hairs into every metallic crack and rise of his frame, tickling his sensors.

Zenyatta couldn’t help but chuckle, the first laugh that he made since Mondatta’s death. “I will be picking fur out of my systems for days now,” he murmured good-heartedly, gently tugging loose a tuft from where it snagged on a section of his side. But when he went to look over at the tiger, the creature was gone once again, silent as it came.

The tiger came more frequently after that, spotting it longing on one of the many archways or perched high on an impossible rooftop or pillar, tail swishing lazily in the breeze. The other monks and residents never saw the creature themselves, invisible and unnoticed in their sights. Zenyatta did not draw attention to the creature, nor did it seek him out until they were alone. The Discord he felt after Mondatta’s death seemed to be lessened whenever the spirit was near, sitting still beside the omnic’s meditations before perhaps growing bored and stretching out across his lap, disturbing him from his thoughts.

Zenyatta did not hear the creature speak until he woke up in the middle of the night, a vision of death and chaos fading from his dreams and snippets of memory to a heavy weight on his chest.

“ _Zenyatta?”_ It was an odd voice, one that echoed in his auditory with a Japanese lilt. Warm paw pads patted the side of his head, causing the lights to flicker as the omnic awoke the rest of his systems.

“ _Bái Hǔ?_ ” Zenyatta whispered, finding it cracking slightly as he reached out shaking (why was he shaking?) hands to dig into the tiger’s fur as it sprawled over his form like the world’s heaviest blanket.

“ _It was just a dream,”_ the voice- the _tiger_ \- said without ever opening its mouth, a bit of steam being huffed out from between its lips.

“I know… I know…”

They fell silent after that, to where Zenyatta’s hands no longer trembled running through _Bái Hǔ’s_ fur. He never had nightmares very often, but more so now since Mondatta’s death. Perhaps not the death itself, but the burden Zenyatta was left with in his wake, that no amount of peace or Harmony could settle the Discord. It dug up old memories- ancient in ways that it stretched from a time before he ever became a monk, before he even knew what the Iris was.

The weight on his chest shifted as the tiger slid away from the omnic, his processes returning back to manageable levels once more. In the tiger’s wake, a humanoid form settled in on the edge of the bed that Zenyatta suddenly realized they were in, a bit of steam billowing out and curling around the white horsehair tail cascading from the top of the helmet.

“I have nightmares too, sometimes,” the tiger- no- _the_ Tiger, _Bái Hǔ_ said, head tilting back to look up towards the ceiling, his words quiet. “What do you dream about?”

“About failure,” Zenyatta admitted, tucking his feet under him as he sat upon the mattress. He hadn't been surprised by the change from tiger to person, but was surprised the deity himself would visit, and now of all times. “About the pain and strife of this world. About the past.”

_Bái Hǔ_ hummed lowly, his face turning partially towards Zenyatta, the blue eyes set into the helmet glowing brighter than the enteral blue of its gaping maw. “I dream of my brother,” _Bái Hǔ_ shared softly. “We fought, once. I forgave him long ago for what he had done to me, but… the pain lingers in my dreams. A remembrance of our failures, too wrapped up in our anger and ourselves to see the truth.”

He trailed off into silence after that, and Zenyatta couldn’t help but reach out and gently place a hand over _Bái Hǔ’_ s own.

“We learn the most from when we are the lowest,” the omnic murmured. “We simply must not let ourselves be consumed by our grief and our pain. Our dreams remind us of where we’ve been and how far we can fall if we allow it.”

“Look at you, being all smart and important.” Zenyatta could hear the smile in _Bái Hǔ’s_ words, his voice light and teasing as the onmic let out a small chuckle and pulled his hand away.

“Yes, well, even gods need to vent occasionally, _Bái Hǔ._ ”

“Genji.”

“Pardon?”

_Bái Hǔ_ shifted, turning away as if shyly. “Just… call me Genji. It’s a name I use commonly when I walk alongside the normal folk.”

“Genji,” Zenyatta tried, the name being engrained into their memory before holding out their hand, palm up in greeting. “Then, I welcome you, Genji. It is a pleasure to finally meet you officially. Please do not shed any further on my garments.”

Genji let out a chuff as they reached out, taking the hand in return to the greeting. “Now where’s the fun in that?” he replied cheekily, and before his optics could catch up, the massive white tiger was back again, its heavy weight flopping entirely against Zenyatta and causing him to slip over.

He couldn’t recall when the last time he had such a good laugh was.


End file.
